Can't Be
by Blaze6
Summary: "I'm not sure I don't want to be fooled." G/S


Title: Can't Be  
  
Author: Blaze  
  
Summary: I'm not sure I don't want to be fooled. G/S angst-ness.  
  
Rating/Spoilers: PG, and none.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, never have been, never will be. Anything that is copyrighted isn't mine.  
  
Feedback/Archiving: I, like most writers, enjoy feedback and/or constructive criticism. But nothing mean. And if anyone wants to archive this, I don't know why you'd want it, but ask first.  
  
Author's Notes: All I have to say is my quasi-beta reader has either quit or is on vacation, so no one but me has read this, if it sucks I apologize. But if it doesn't suck, I hope you enjoy it. [and to my quasi-beta, if you read this, e-mail me please, I need to talk to you about my two productions, even if you've quit. Thanks for everything. G] Oh, yeah. I swear I'm still a G/S 'shipper. I know it doesn't seem like it in this, but I am. (  
  
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She watched him circle the block four times before he pulled the dark Tahoe into a consistently open parking spot, noting bitterly to herself that he'd never had to work up the courage to speak to her before.  
  
Grissom eased out of the vehicle as if he was about to step out on thin ice, and maybe he was. She observed the cautious way he closed the door, his careful steps towards the building, the stoic expression she knew he only used when he'd built up fake confidence. Observed the sudden change from stoic to surprised and back again as he saw her on the front steps.  
  
He absorbed every bit of information he could, examining her and her surroundings like a crime scene. Black jeans and a dark blue shirt, leaning against the railing on the very first step under a flowering honeysuckle plant. A bottle of water (Aquafina, twenty-four ounces), an opened pack of cigarettes (Winston Light-wait. Cigarettes?), and a lighter (a purple plastic Bic, he'd expected dark green or red). A half-smoked cigarette dangled between the index and middle fingers of her right hand.  
  
"Hi," Sara said, casual as ever. A flower dropped past her chestnut hair, she glanced at the motion briefly before meeting his eyes.  
  
"Hi." He gestured at the space next to her, asking, "May I sit down?"  
  
She shrugged. Taking this as a 'yes', Grissom climbed the stairs and sat down, facing the street. They sat in silence for a minute or two, Sara taking periodic drags from her cigarette, Grissom watching traffic, hands clasped and held out over his knees as he thought about what to say.  
  
Finally, he reached over, snatched the cigarette from her hand and ground it into the concrete as she exclaimed, "Hey!"  
  
"I thought you quit, Sara."  
  
"I did," she grumbled, grabbing the pack. She shook one out, lit it, and inhaled deep.  
  
"What is this, then?" he asked, pointing at the cigarettes.  
  
"No one wants to kiss an ashtray," she muttered sarcastically, watching his features grow dark as he heard the world of hurt underneath her words.  
  
He took a few deep breaths before he replied. "I'm used to living off the record, Sara. I'm not used to. . ."  
  
"Following me home like a kicked puppy?"  
  
"No." He turned back to the traffic, not speaking as three motorcycles rushed by, followed closely by a white Toyota Corolla. "Backing away from something I think is right."  
  
"You didn't back away, you leapt," she scoffed. "You put the car in reverse and punched the gas pedal to the floor."  
  
He rotated to face her, said, "You're right." Fell silent as he couldn't think of anything else to say.  
  
"I don't understand why you're here." She punctuated this pointed statement with a deep drag on her cigarette.  
  
"I wanted to explain."  
  
"There's not much to explain, Grissom. We did a saliva swap, and you backed away like I burned you." Sara was clearly trying to sound more angry about it than she was. The words were resigned, weary, as they resounded in his ears.  
  
"It's more complicated than that." She arched a perfect eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. "I'm your boss. I can't-"  
  
They exhaled together, Sara flicking ashes towards the sidewalk. "So, is 'I can't' a good enough excuse for pulling away?"  
  
"It's not the only reason, no. If that's what you're asking."  
  
Sara nodded, looked up as two people walked between them. She pulled her pack, the lighter and her water closer to her to allow them space to enter the building, moving the items back after the pair had gone inside. "So, what? You don't like me?" A small smile quirked on her face.  
  
Grissom's eyes widened incredulously at the question. "Sara, I love you. Just. . ." He sighed. "Not like that. Not like I should."  
  
The smile wavered, held steady for a second, then disappeared. "I understand."  
  
Two words had never sounded so opposite from their true meaning before this. "I'm not saying I never could love you like that, Sara. I'm saying that right now, I don't. I can't."  
  
"You and me can't be," she murmured. "That's all you had to tell me, Grissom."  
  
He ducked his head, finding an interesting spot on the step below him and staring at it. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "If I could, I would, you know that."  
  
She chuckled softly, sadly, reached out and touched his shoulder. He looked up at her, meeting her eyes. "You can't help how you don't feel," she whispered. "Thank you for being honest with me."  
  
"Always," he promised, standing to go. "I didn't want you being fooled," Grissom added, as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "It wouldn't be fair to either of us if I led you on."  
  
"No, it wouldn't," she agreed. He climbed in the SUV and disappeared without another word.  
  
Sara finished the cigarette, looked at the butt before she tossed it into the ornate ashtray and went inside, and told it, "But I'm not sure I don't want to be fooled." 


End file.
